Buskers Diary, Thursday 28 January 2010
Michele A’Court
Thursday is another fine summer’s day – cardigans off! – though I start it indoors with a massage at Champs Elysee, a spa in the beautiful old bank building on the corner of the Square behind the Cathedral. Perhaps surprisingly, standing on stage holding a microphone for a couple of hours a day can be physically demanding in quite odd ways. For a year I had tennis elbow as a result of gripping the microphone too tightly which I found bizarre until I discovered bar-staff get the same injury just from shaking cocktails.
So Helen pokes her fingers, knuckles and elbows into the labyrinth of knotted muscles across my back. Any plan to pay for it later with busker’s $2 coins is eschewed – I am too relaxed to bother stacking them in neat columns. Besides, I don’t want such a fine masseuse to develop RSI from checking my count.
I float out into the sunshine and plop myself down at the UC Music Pitch on the corner of Colombo and Hereford Streets to enjoy The Easterns and Hera. For any semi-conscious recently massaged patrons, this is a fine spot – great music and a wide array of food and juice options one short stumble away. I plump for fresh salmon sushi and iced tea, but it could easily have been anything from souvlaki to cheese rolls to a made-to-order sandwich.
There are a few errands to run before show time – critical things like finding a lipstick to match my toenail polish – and then we’re out to Sumner on another balmy evening.
The Sumnerians (Sumnerites? Sumnerines?) are in fine form tonight. We’re sold out well before show time and sixty people are turned away. Those present, filled with the thrill of finding a seat, break the record for spending at the bar that was set last Friday night, though don’t quite take the ultimate title from our Saturday night crowd.
Daredevil Chickens
Celebrations once again called for, we stop by the Bedford to catch the last few minutes of their rollicking show – it’s a spectacular event that mixes stand-up and physical theatre from “The Daredevil Chicken Club” in an equally spectacular room, bigger and smarter than the old Civic and beautifully run by Wendy and her team.
Then we gather up the Festival’s comedians and head to “205”, prosaically named for its location at 205 Manchester St. Bigger than Le Plonk (and owned, I understand, by the same people) it is similarly refined in a relaxed way and boasts an outdoor courtyard which we take advantage of – warm nights deserve to be enjoyed.
Suddenly hungry round midnight, I wander off to the 24-hour convenience store and buy a lamb shank, my usual snack of choice at the end of a long night in this city. If you put it on a plate and garnished it, it would do any restaurant proud. At least, that’s how it seems to me tonight, and that’s all that matters.
